Bibliophile
by noctepanther
Summary: Mori character study, with Haruhi friendship. Critique much appreciated.


_**Bibliophile**_

There was one truth Takashi Mori had learned from the Host Club: Chaos is manageable. This fact is what had led his room to its current situation – a mess of books.

A pile of texts ranging from Euripides to Dante formed a makeshift nightstand, while his real one, a beautiful work of cherry, was littered with printed copies of Emerson. His walls were covered with copies of poems – he favored Sharon Olds and Li-Young Lee more than any other – and novels were scattered around the foot of his bed.

Yes, Mori liked to read. Regardless of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, prose, or genre, he read. He devoured books the way Mitsukuni went through cake.

He smiled as turned a page in his newest book, an older fantasy about a displaced king and his travels. The pages were slightly yellow and had a faint musty scent, his two indicators of a good story.

Mori insisted on buying books secondhand. Not because he was cheap, or because he was trying to fit in with the "commoners," as Tamaki and the twins liked to call them. No, he loved to find notations made by previous owners, or flipping to the dog-eared pages to read their favorite passages.

One winter's night, he walked to his favorite store. The owner, an elderly woman who always kept her white hair in a bun, called a hello to him as he took off his gloves and brushed the snow off of his houndsooth patterned scarf at the door. He waved to her before rubbing some flakes into his jet-black hair. Mori hated the thought of possibly getting any of the books wet. He walked over to the fiction section while taking his coat off, intent on finding a book by Helene Hanff.

Several minutes into his search the owner came to where he sat with a mug of chai in her hand. She knew his searches always took longer than they should, for the young man would become distracted by other books that caught his eye.

"Here you are, dear," she said fondly, handing the mug over to him. Mori smiled and took it thankfully. He was her favorite customer. "Someone dropped off the next book in your series. I've been saving it behind the counter for you."

"Thank you, Margret," he said quietly. She chuckled and walked back to the counter, knowing that further conversation was unlikely. It always amazed her he could be so well-read, but say so little.

Mori cradled the mug in one hand while reaching for a book with the other. He skimmed the back cover and decided he wasn't interested. The bell over the door rang while he was returning the book to the shelf. Mori glanced up, interested. It wasn't often another customer came in when he was in the store.

It was foolish of him, though, since he was sitting on a chair in the corner and the bookshelves reached to the top of the ceiling. There was no way he could see the counter unless he got up, which was nowhere in the near future. The chair was soft and squishy, near a heating vent, it was eight at night, and he had a free cup of chai. Mori had no intention of moving, unless it was to get a book. Or ask Margret for a refill. He turned his attention back to the shelves.

"What brings you here, sweetie? It's Friday." Margret asked the newcomer. She knew her best customers like the plot of her favorite play. "You're usually on a date."

"I just wanted to drop some leftovers off for the White Devil." Mori's interest renewed itself. The White Devil, as customers had nicknamed Noel, Margret's snow-white cat, was notorious for refusing customer food. She was finicky, even for a cat, and accepted only the finest leftovers – he was usually the sole provider of those.

"Well, I'll put them down for her. Noel!" Margret called. There was a plopping sound as Noel was jumped down from a shelf somewhere. Mori could hear the little beast stalk over to the counter. "She's actually eating it! Your man must have taken you someplace nice."

"Yeah, I guess." The customer sighed. "I'm kind of sick of him, you know? He doesn't get that we're different."

"Mm-hm."

"Like tonight. He took me to that new seafood place, and the price for an appetizer is the same as my textbooks! I tell him I'm not comfortable with this, and he acts like it's nothing."

"But it's something."

"Exactly." There was a pause. "I think I'm going to look around for a bit. You're not closing anytime soon, are you?"

"I'm open until midnight, hun."

Mori, conscious that he had just eavesdropped on their conversation, quickly turned back to the shelves. He had not come to listen in on people's lives, but for a specific book. He already had five others pulled out to be bought, but not the one he wanted. He took another drink from his mug, sadly noticing that it was already halfway gone.

It was natural, then, that when he had found the book he was looking for, his drink was gone. Since his search was over, there was no need to bother Margret for another cup. Mori quietly gathered his finds and headed to the counter.

"Mori-senpai?" The inflection told him who it was.

"Haruhi?" Never had he encountered any of the other Host members here – it was too common for them. After spending so much time with her, Mori had forgotten that she wasn't as affluent as himself or the others.

"I didn't know you read so much Mori-senpai," she said, nodding on his pile of books. He grunted in response. Haruhi continued on.

"You look good like that. With books and the scarf, I mean. You look scholarly." She smiled. "I'm surprised to see you here." He shrugged his shoulders.

Margret watched the two with a bemused expression on her face. "Do you still want the book, dear?" she asked Mori, who nodded. She rang up his purchases and he paid, also returning the mug. Margret didn't bother give him the change – he always made her keep it.

As Haruhi paid for her book, Margret asked, "Do you two know each other?"

"We go to school together," Haruhi answered casually. Mori was glad she didn't mention the Host Club. He wasn't sure if he wanted Margret to know about that.

"I see," Margret said, a smirk starting to form on her motherly features. "Well, have a good night you two."

"You, too," Haruhi said. Mori nodded and waved.

Outside, Haruhi talked while he put on his gloves and adjusted his scarf. "Do you want to get a coffee or something? I don't want to go home yet."

Mori thought for while, thinking about what Tamaki might do if he found out the two of them were together, unsupervised, and then decided that he didn't really care. Aside from Mitsukuni, he didn't spend enough time with his friends, and he no intentions of trying anything with Haruhi.

"Sure," he said so softly it could have been a whisper.

They walked for a few minutes to the nearest coffee shop in silence, clutching their bags. He was accustomed to the quiet, but she looked as if she wanted to say something.

It wasn't until they sat down with drinks in hand that she spoke. "Why do you read so much, Mori-senpai?" He arched an eyebrow in question. She continued. "I mean, it's just because you hardly ever talk…I guess I thought you weren't really into academe." She took a drink before continuing. "You don't talk, you practice kendo all the time, or you're with Honey-senpai. It's only natural to think that you wouldn't read as well." He smiled his rare half-smile. Is this what all the Host members thought of him? How amusing. Had they not learned from each other that none of them were what they appeared to be? In a perverse way, he felt honored he managed to avoid the insatiable scrutiny of the others. It left his life at least somewhat peaceful.

Haruhi looked at his expression and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. What did that smile mean? Had she crossed some boundary she shouldn't have? Was Mori-senpai's way of dealing with it? She searched her mind for a topic to restore the previous calm mood between them.

"So what's your favorite book?"

Mori's dark eyes lit up as he launched into a long discussion of not only his favorite book, but his favorite play, poem, author, and poet. Haruhi sat through it all, eyes widening as she listened to him talk about writers she had never even heard of, or explain the complex plot of a play. She had never heard so many words come from her friend's mouth. Perhaps even more amazing was that they were polysyllabic words, some of which she didn't know the meaning of. She had no idea Mori was capable of being so articulate.

Haruhi was smiling when he finished. "Wow," she said. "I didn't know that…that…or you..." She stopped and met his gaze. "You're something, Mori-senpai." He blushed slightly, fidgeting with his scarf. "I mean it," she said, glancing down at her watch. "Oh, I have to go! I promised Hikaru I would call him after my date." She grabbed her bag and stood up, but then paused.

"There's more to you than even I could have ever analyzed, Mori-senpai." She leaned in and kissed him chastely on the cheek. "You're helping me with my literature homework next time."

Mori smiled as she left, and followed suit soon after. He took his time walking home, watching the snow fall under the glow of lampposts.

When he returned to the chaos of his room, he was reading before had even taken his socks off.

_Author's note: I would go gay for Mori.  
11/22/2008: Small edits made._


End file.
